


A Lady's New Skill

by Neuroharlot



Category: Harlots (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28882548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuroharlot/pseuds/Neuroharlot
Summary: William North offers to provide boxing lessons to Lady Fitzwilliam.There will be four chapters to this work but I can't promise when.
Relationships: Nancy Birch & Isabella Fitzwilliam, Nancy Birch/Isabella Fitzwilliam
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12
Collections: Harlots Finish Your Fic Fest





	1. Chapter 1

Nancy and Lady Isabella were both nursing a tot of gin in the rundown dining room at Greek Street when William North entered the room, looking slightly more rugged than usual. His black leather waistcoat was positioned awkwardly on his broad shoulders as if he had been jostling with somebody, or somebodies. The candle lit room made it difficult to see the dried blood that laced his eyebrow. Nancy nodded in Will’s direction, the point of her tricorne hat casting a shadow over her pale face. Isabella demurely looked down into her gin as if it were the most interesting thing she had studied all year. She often became shy in the company of men, haunted by her brother’s behaviour. Yet she knew Will was different, as were many men. 

“You pair look as sullen as a fat cull without a whore.” he declared, a smirk adorning the corner of his lips. 

Isabella blushed excessively at his language, taking her free hand and anxiously smoothing her skirts before picking at a loose bead and thread. She had spent many an evening at this table, in front of this fire beside Nancy, yet she was still not overly accustomed to the harsh language that often bounced between the four walls. Especially when it was uttered by a male tongue. 

Will sensed Isabella’s unease and offered a small smile to the Lady.

“So sorry, your Ladyship.” he said. He feigned a modest bow of the head in Isabella’s direction.

Isabella did not look up but mumbled something about how it was fine and it was their home after all. 

Nancy smirked toward Isabella, a wicked glint in her eyes which was visible even beneath the shadow of her hat. Seeing the Marchioness squirm so painfully was one of Nancy’s favourite pastimes. She swatted Isabella’s arm playfully. This earned her a vexatious glare from the Lady as she recoiled. 

“Ouch Nancy, that hurt!” she reprimanded harshly.

Nancy looked like a guilty, remorseful pup who had been scolded for chewing the table leg. She guessed she had swung a little forcefully. She blamed the gin. She was already necking her fifth tumbler of the stuff, or was it the sixth? She couldn’t remember.

William raised his eyebrows at this exchange.

“Perhaps it’s time you took me up on my offer of boxing lessons, your Ladyship?” he proposed, shooting Nancy a knowing grin. “Keep this one in check.”

Nancy outstretched her arm in protest, spilling gin out of the sides of the glass as she gestured towards Will. 

“Shurrup, don’t be giving her any ideas now will ya?” Nancy slurred. The alcohol was releasing her of her inhibitions quickly. “I dread to think what she’d be capable of with the right…” More gin dripped onto the table as she gave a flourish with her hand. “Training.” She hiccupped. “Already dreams of killing that bastard brother of hers.” she snarled, the ends of her words trailing off as if stolen by the spirit. 

Isabella still looked awkward and embarrassed until mention of her vile brother. Her posture straightened, her gaze hardened, and she crinkled her nose as she pondered over Will’s offer. Boxing lessons, she thought. It could certainly be handy. One day she would be free of Harcourt and there would be no man to guard her. She would be vulnerable, especially if Nancy wasn’t around with her trusty birch.

“Perhaps you are right, Mr North.” Isabella stated, raising her chin with some pride and a little confidence, probably fuelled by the gin. “When will we begin the lessons?”

Nancy almost spit out her drink in surprise. Her eyes widened. The dark make up around them was smudged at the end of a long day.

“You?!” she asked incredulously. “Boxing? A fine lady like you can’t fight!” Nancy leered towards Isabella, glaring at the round of her breasts which threatened to escape her corset. She ogled openly with the courage of the drink coursing through her veins.

“You’re drunk Nancy.” Isabella rolled her eyes disapprovingly. “Next time we drink here, perhaps I can threaten you with a fight should you be unable to find my face!”

Nancy realised her gaze had been directed at the Lady’s chest for the last few minutes. It was almost as intoxicating as the liquor. 

“How about tomorrow morning?” Will suggested. He hadn’t expected Lady Fitzwilliam to accept his offer. He had only proposed such a thing in jest to spite Nancy. Yet he did think it could be a useful skill for the Lady. Her vindictive brother would surely require a good clobbering at some point.

“That’s settled then.” Isabella said proudly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabella finds some suitable attire for her first boxing lesson.

Isabella jolted awake. She must have forgotten where she was. As she scanned the room, she remembered she had spent the night in Nancy’s room at Greek Street so that she could commence her boxing lessons first thing in the morning. She had not spent the night here since… Since the final night she had spent with Charlotte. That first time. The night she had been set free like a bird released from a lifetime of incarceration, released from the wrought iron confinement of the smallest cage. Charlotte had sucked the poison from her. Her eyes closed as she tasted the toxicity of it on her lips. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip slowly, recollecting, reliving. Isabella raised a hand up to the back of her head and rubbed it gently. That night was burned into her memory. The night the spell of a lifetime was broken. 

Charlotte had released her. Enabled her to live again, to embrace the companionship of a woman and let it inside of her. It had been surprisingly easy to fall for Nancy after that. She had never imagined getting close to anyone before she met Charlotte, never mind getting close to another so soon after. She wondered if it was because of Nancy’s own pain of that she felt able to be herself around her. They had shared many an evening lit only by the light of the crackling fire in confessing their deepest pains of love and loss. While Isabella had been privately consumed by her loss, Nancy had lost not only Charlotte, but also Mags, her one truest love, a forbidden love that could never be.

The Lady was disturbed from her reverie by the brutish sound of a man tupping a harlot. It sent an uncomfortable shudder down her spine. She hadn’t quite minded the background noise when she had spent the night in the brothel with Charlotte. Trying to block out the noise, she looked over at the ticking clock; it was 8:25am or there abouts. Who in the world entertains a cull at this ungodly hour?

Peering down at Nancy, Isabella chuckled at the scruffiness of her hair, her pale, angular face smeared with dark make up from where she had rubbed her eyes. There was a faint coral print of a kiss on her cheekbone. Isabella had left it there before Nancy had grunted and rolled over before proceeding to snore in less than five minutes. She felt great affection for Nancy, but God had she been drunk last night. She could smell the stale liquor emanating from her nostrils and her slightly parted lips. It was almost visible as vapour in the room. 

Isabella shook Nancy’s shoulder until she roused. Nancy grunted unapologetically, still bleary eyed and undoubtedly very hungover.

“Nancy – you stink!” Isabella huffed. “Wake up and rinse your mouth. It is a very important day!”

“Huh?” Nancy grunted again. “What?” she grumbled moodily.

“Today I learn to fight.” she stated excitedly. “Soon I’ll be able to fend for myself, physically this time. There does seem such a lot to learn from this house.” 

Isabella smiled, remembering Charlotte’s wisdom, as she swung her long pale legs out of the bed. She sashayed towards her skirts, slipping her chemise off as she moved. Hmm, this won’t do for boxing, she thought. There was no way she could move freely in those restrictive clothes. 

Scanning the room as if looking for inspiration, she spotted Nancy’s black breeches draped over a chair. They were stained, shabby, and looked worse for wear, but she had little other option. Lifting them, she wrinkled her nose at the smell. The mix of tobacco, dirt and sweat rose to greet her. There was something both appealing and not so appealing about the scent. 

Lifting her legs into the pants, she realised this was going to be a tight squeeze. Isabella peeked over her shoulder to check that Nancy was not observing her plight. She would only laugh at the scene before her, or perhaps she would protest vociferously. Luckily, Nancy had rolled over in the bed and was dribbling peacefully on the feather pillow. 

The Lady persisted in her task, stretching and contorting herself to squeeze into the breeches which were far too small in both width and length. Once they were firmly and very tightly in place, Isabella looked down at her thighs with a kind of smug satisfaction. They would do nicely, she thought, ignoring the fact that far too much ankle was showing. But what would she wear on top? She quickly located Nancy’s billowy blouse from last night. There were remnants of gin splashes on there but it would have to do. She donned the emerald green blouse and threw it over her head. That fit much better thankfully, as Nancy often worse blouses too big for her slender frame. She toyed with the idea of donning her smart pinstripe waistcoat too, and balancing the tricorn hat atop her head, but stopped herself. She thought herself terribly foolish to become excited at the idea of wearing all of Nancy’s clothes. Isabella had neglected to consider what Nancy might wear when she finally got out of bed. 

Isabella strode across the room to Nancy, where she held her breath to settle a kiss softly on her forehead, next to a wisp of raven hair. 

“See you later, my love.” she whispered, before leaving the room, pulling the door gently closed behind her.

As she descended the stairs, Isabella felt oddly emboldened wearing Nancy’s breeches and blouse, almost as if she could embody Nancy completely, and be more at ease with the lessons she was about to receive. 

Even before she entered the kitchen, the scent of strong coffee hit her nostrils. Ordinarily, the strong smell would have turned her stomach, but not today. She was channelling her inner Nancy. Coffee was one of the only ways Nancy could function. Isabella was more of a tea lady herself. 

Entering the room, she was met by Will, who was already sat at the small table, a pot of coffee in the centre and a cup on both sides. He gestured towards the opposite chair with a mock bow toward Isabella.

“Looking good this morning, your Ladyship.” he said jovially with a cheeky smirk. He had cleaned the blood from his eyebrow and looked much more chiselled this morning. “I did wonder how I would teach you your first lesson in your fine gown.” 

Isabella nodded, unable to stop the proud grin spreading across her face. Feeling accomplished, she walked tall toward the vacant chair and sat herself down on it. She instinctively reached to manoeuvre her skirts around her legs but felt a sharp tinge of shock when she realised she didn’t need to consider this. Oh, how easy it would be to rid herself of skirts altogether. She envied Nancy in that moment.

She reached for the pot of coffee, clumsily knocking the side of it, and almost causing it to spill over completely. With lightning fast reflexes, Will steadied the pot. 

“Allow me, my lady.” he raised his eyebrows before taking the pot and pouring the steaming dark liquid into the chipped cup in front of her. 

Isabella blushed, losing her newfound confidence momentarily. She took hold of the cup in her hands, studying the chip and wondering how it had come to occur. She did not add milk or sugar although they were in easy reach. If she was honest, she didn’t know how she should drink her coffee, so she settled for it black. Bringing the cup towards her plush lips, the bitter aroma caught the back of her throat. Attempting to stifle her cough, she gulped down a mouthful of hot coffee. Overwhelmed by the heat and disgusted by the bitterness, her cheeks puffed out, a light spray of coffee escaping her lips. Thankfully she managed to swallow most of the mouthful as the heat burned her throat. Isabella’s face contorted as she struggled to cope with the awful taste. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, red faced, wiping the coffee drips from Nancy’s green blouse.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that.” Will said, gesturing toward the sheer fabric, which now had new stains, almost perfectly symmetrical on each side of the buttons. 

“Breakfast?” Will offered, lifting a knife in suggestion.

Isabella shook her head to decline. Her stomach hurt from the coffee.

Will helped himself to the bread and jar of ruby coloured jam from the counter, messily tearing chunks and scoffing them noisily.

Once the incredibly informal morning formalities were over, Will ushered Isabella out of the kitchen, then out of the house. 

“The boxing studio is this way.” He pointed to the right as they left the doorway and stepped onto the cobbled streets of London.


End file.
